


the deep end

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Drinking, Experimental Test Pilot Poe Dameron, Flirting, Fluff, Hot Tub, Kissing, M/M, Smoking, Snark, Swimming Pools, Writer Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15545385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: Poe, revising his estimate, maybe should have laid off the drinks about two drinks ago, but now he was committed and now he had a target and a goal and he was feeling good, fuzzy in the way of all the best alcohol-tinged buzzes. “How mad will he be if I talk to him?”





	the deep end

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaylo_ben](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaylo_ben/gifts).



> A small thank you to gaylo_ben for all the incredible Benpoe art they created for me. Inspired by one of their prompts for this year's [Knightpilot](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpexchange2018) Exchange.

Poe Dameron slipped between a pair of women on his way out of the house. Colorful, shimmering robes covered the swimsuits they wore, catching the bright, beaming light of a sun balanced high in a perfect, pristine sky. Palm hovering above the wide rim of the drink he’d just procured, he smiled at them and dipped his head in acknowledgment. They smiled back and eyed the brightly colored concoction in his hand with interest. 

“Han’s mixing cocktails,” he said by way of explanation. Three umbrellas, green, pink, and blue, poked out around a mound of sliced fruit under which liquor was supposed to exist. Maybe that was what they were looking at. He supposed it did look silly. But he was maybe a drink too far gone to care about that. “He’s possibly sampling them, too.”

“Sounds like Han,” the older one answered, dry. With hair a lovely shade of lavender, eyes a piercing blue, Poe could reasonably assume this was the infamous Amilyn Holdo. He’d heard a tale or two about her from Leia and now he could believe every last one of them. Before, he might have wondered. “But is the drink any good?”

For one stupid second, Poe almost offered her a taste. Instead, he brought the straw to his own mouth and sipped, humming thoughtfully and a little theatrically. After a deliberate pause, he answered. “I can vouch.”

Though she rolled her eyes, a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “I think Han’s not the only one who’s been sampling, flyboy.”

“Ah, you’ve heard of me, too,” he answered with a laugh. If he thought about it, maybe Leia had a story or two about him, too. He took another drink, deeper this time, and wondered how awful it would look if he went back for another already. “You’re maybe not wrong.”

“Well, Paige, with that expert endorsement,” Holdo said, turning to her companion, “what do you think?”

“It beats taking bets on when Ben’s going to finally give up and run screaming for the hills,” Paige said, chin jerking toward the far corner of the generous backyard of the Solo-Organa household. There was a small copse of trees that way, far from the pool and the generous warmth of camaraderie that a good party engendered. On the plus side, a hammock was strung between the sturdiest pair of tree trunks. And though it would have made sense to take advantage of that fact, the man standing over there, dressed head-to-toe in black, merely leaned against one of the them instead.

A curl of smoke rose toward the clear blue of the sky overhead just to complete the picture.

“He do that a lot?” Poe had to admit, he didn’t know much about Leia’s son. In the course of their lives working with one another, he and Leia, they didn’t talk much about him and what he knew could maybe fill a shot glass and mostly consisted of: she had a son with Han who wrote and apparently had well enough for himself at it that he could afford to actually live off of it. He sometimes even came home to visit. And he was very private.

Poe had, out of respect for everyone involved, long ago quelled his natural curiosity and hadn’t immediately followed it up with a smattering of questions and a creepy Google search. Then or since. Though now he maybe regretted it.

“Risk heat stroke while he broods mysteriously?” Holdo asked, and Poe got the very distinct sense that the question was rhetorical. Still, he also got the sense that Holdo felt affection for her friends’ son despite her words. “He’s always been devoted to his aesthetic decisions.”

“Well, it’s working for him.” And though the warmth of the sun had long ago baked itself into his bare shoulders, a fresh wave of heat flooded through him. Luckily, if any of his embarrassment showed, he could write it off as sunburn. As long as he didn’t open his mouth and stick his foot in it further, he’d be okay. Holdo seemed willing to cut him some slack anyway, keeping her thoughts to herself despite the glint of humor in her gaze that suggested she had all sorts of opinions she was withholding.

Anyone in their right mind would have thought Ben looked like an idiot, so purposefully out of place and being combatively conspicuous about it.

Poe just found it charming.

He’d always liked rabble-rousers and people who went against the grain, though. It was why he and Leia got along so well.

Poe, revising his estimate, maybe should have laid off the drinks about two drinks ago, but now he was committed and now he had a target and a goal and he was feeling good, fuzzy in the way of all the best alcohol-tinged buzzes. “How mad will he be if I talk to him?”

If there was a note of hope in his voice, that was his own business.

“You don’t sound too broken up about the possibility,” Holdo answered, making it her business, too.

He just liked a challenge was all, but he wasn’t about to tell Holdo that.

*

The nicest thing about challenges, he thought about an hour, a bottle of water, and a fresh drink later, was truly in the way they couldn’t give less of a fuck about your existence. Arms crossed on the rounded lip of the pool’s edge, legs kicking occasionally, he watched Ben without really watching him, eyes skimming lazily across the ground as he spoke to Rey, who was perched on the same edge Poe occupied. “How many cigarettes do you think that guy’s smoked since we’ve been here?”

“Who, Ben?” Her fingers grazed the surface of the rippling water. “One, probably. Han says he dabbles. Drives him crazy, but at least he keeps it outside and to a minimum while he’s here.”

Poe looked up at her, eyes wide and maybe a little judgmental.

“What? You asked.” She only sounded mostly defensive. “Han likes to talk, okay?”

At that, Poe couldn’t not snort. It was true enough from Poe’s limited experience with him. He’d certainly chatted up a storm of bullshit every time Poe came in to snag another drink. Nice guy, probably a little grumpy when he wasn’t busy being the heroic life blood of the party, but he had a big mouth on him. Rey, though. Rey worked with him on a regular basis. “He’s a writer, right? Ben?”

“You ever read his work?” she asked, eyeing Poe speculatively.

“No. Is it—”

Rey’s attention drifted, quick as lightning, and she suddenly raised her hand in greeting.

“Finn!” she shouted. “Rose!” Getting her hands beneath her, she pushed herself to her feet, accidentally or not so accidentally spraying Poe with water in the process. “Sorry, Poe. Gonna have to figure out your weird fixation on your own. It’s good, by the way. Might want to give it a shot.” Her hand, clammy from the water, briefly touched Poe’s overheated shoulder, a shock. “Or you could just talk to him like a normal human person would.”

“As opposed to all the non-human people you know?”

Rey grinned, bright and ferocious, a little threatening, but she refused to be hooked into his nonsense. And of course she would do taht. Nothing else mattered now that Finn and Rose were finally here.

“Tell ‘em, ‘hi,’ for me,” was all he said, which she acknowledged with a nod at least.

And with that she was off. Without her to serve as a distraction, he finally found himself unable to completely pretend to ignore his black-clad, shadowy, cigarette-smoking challenge.

Maybe a good thing, too, because he caught Ben staring just in time to see his attention snap instantly away and had a hell of a time biting back his smile as a result.

Nice.

Pulling himself from the pool, he splattered the porous granite with water and scooped up his drink. Ben ignored him the entire way over. And even once he was close enough to smell that not only was Ben smoking cigarettes, he was smoking _clove_ cigarettes, Ben was still trying to ignore him. The scent of the one currently lit cling to the air, almost pleasant, the smoke a little smoother than expected. 

But maybe Rey was right. There were a few streaks of ash on the tree where it looked like he might have stubbed out the one he was working on. It did look a little battered, the dark paper definitely worse for wear. When Poe had finally internalized the twin facts that Ben smoked clove cigarettes and apparently also rolled his own, he finally looked Ben in the face.

He wasn’t amused, but he was definitely defensive.

If pressed, Poe might have admitted he fell a little bit in love.

“So,” he said, laden with burgeoning feelings of utter and total glee, “you’re kind of hogging the hammock corner.”

Ben blinked, features losing the aggressive edge and gaining a whole lot of confusion in its place. His gaze dragged up and down Poe’s body, uncertain enough that Poe couldn’t be sure if he was unimpressed or something else entirely. “Excuse me?”

His voice managed to sound unimpressed regardless.

Poe tried not to think the worst. And he desperately wished he’d thought to grab a towel. Instead, he was dripping all over the soft, green grass and suddenly feeling very, very exposed about it.

But! He had a drink! He definitely had a drink. That might help. As cool as he knew how to be, which was not very cool at all, he sipped from the straw and then plucked a slice of pineapple from inside. “Pineapple?” he asked, offering the piece to Ben. “I think it might have been soaked in 151 if you’re interested.”

If he kept Ben off-balance, he wouldn’t have to worry about the nerves doing a number on his own stomach. Up close, he didn’t look nearly as standoffish as he’d seemed from far away. Emotions flitted across his face in quick-fire succession, never quite settling. It was fascinating to watch.

“It was definitely soaked in 151,” Ben answered, dry, but he took it anyway. “Hopefully dad didn’t waste the good stuff on it.”

“There’s good rum?” Admittedly, Poe didn’t know what in the hell he was talking about. Because Poe generally couldn’t tell the difference and didn’t care as long as it tasted good. But that had never stopped him from opening his mouth before.

“Do I look like a rum guy? How would I know?” Ben popped the fruit into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Nah, just the Cruzan.” His eyes narrowed and he pointed at Poe. “And for the record, I’m not a rum guy.”

Poe nodded. “Definitely wouldn’t want to mistake you for one of those. I’m sure you only drink the finest… what is it temporally displaced Beat poets drink anyway?” It wasn’t the coolest quip he could’ve come up with, but he supposed all those liberals arts credits he took at university had to count for something. No doubt his professors would have been proud to see how he’d finally found an application for all that fancy learning.

Ben only hesitated for a moment, just long enough to glance down at himself, before shooting back with, “Ah, so you’ve read my work.”

Oh, that was good. That was great really. Guy had a sense of humor. That was more than Poe could’ve hoped for given the miasma of disinterest that permeated his whole everything. What had started as a challenge threatened to devolve into something much more dangerous: a crush. Terrible things for men of Poe’s age to develop. While Poe’s understanding of reality shifted, he took a thoroughly innocent drag of his cigarette. Probably knew full well what he’d done.

Bastard.

“Gimme,” Poe said, snapping his fingers once before gesturing at the cigarette.

“First you insult me and now you want the only joy I’ll be able to find at this party,” he answered. Even so, he handed the cigarette over. All bark, no bite. Poe could work with that. “Who are you and what could I have possibly done wrong in my life to deserve you?”

Poe sucked in a deep lungful of sweetened smoke. Still tasted mostly like shit, same as he remembered from back in high school and college when it was as close to a cool thing to do as Poe ever got. He passed it back and tipped his head up, exhaling toward the sky. Still not impressive. He much preferred the drink. “Poe Dameron and I gave you the last pineapple slice. That’s gotta be worth something, right?”

Ben said nothing, but offered Poe the cigarette again. Poe declined with a shake of his head. “Not my thing really. What’s with the hand rolling anyway?”

Offering Poe a pitying look, Ben took a drag, savoring it maybe. Poe just kind of liked the visual of Ben’s mouth wrapped around the damned thing. “You can’t buy cloves in the States anymore.”

“I’m sure that’s very upsetting to you.”

“I’ve made it through so far,” Ben said. He cleared his throat and turned away for a moment, gesturing behind him. “So, you were mentioning the hammock? As far as I can see, there’s no one stopping you from using it.”

Poe considered it. He hadn’t really come over here with a real plan and the hammock had only been a convenient excuse to razz Ben a little. But on the other hand, the thought of using it was a pretty damned sweet one. The shade was nice for one thing and the company even better. “You gonna stick around if I do?”

Ben shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t have any other plans,” he said. “That a problem?”

Biting back a grin, Poe pushed his drink into Ben’s hands. Surprise flitted across his face and that only made Poe want to smile more. As soon as he climbed into the hammock, hands tucked behind his head, eyes closing, he let himself. “Not at all.”

It really was a nice hammock. And if Poe were a little more forward, he might’ve suggested that Ben join him, but it was enough to hear the rustle of Ben’s clothes as he moved closer and then even better the way he sat between the tree’s roots, as near to Poe as he could get. Opening his eyes, he twisted just enough to catch a glimpse of Ben’s profile and the jut of his knees beneath his crossed arms.

It was peaceful. They could still hear the raucous noise of the party, the mingling sound of music by artists Poe barely recognized and laughter and talking, but it seemed almost distant and a little hazy even though they weren’t so very far away. Poe could see why Ben might appreciate it.

“So, a writer,” Poe said eventually, hoping it wouldn’t break the spell if he pried a bit. “I take it you don’t actually write Beat poetry.”

“No.” Ben huffed, quietly amused, way less combative than Poe expected. Somehow he’d gotten this idea in his head about who Ben was, both from what Holdo had said and his own assessment. He was starting to find he liked this version better. “Just novels.”

“Uh huh. ‘Just’ novels.”

“It’s nowhere near as impressive as being an experimental test pilot, I can tell you that much,” Ben answered. “Though…”

As carefully as he could, Poe leaned up and looked down at Ben, who was gazing thoughtfully into the middle distance. He ignored the way his stomach flipped at the thought of Ben knowing who he was and what he did. “Though?”

Ben’s gaze found his. It was steady despite the hesitance of his words. “Though maybe you’d let me pick your brain about that a little bit?”

It took every ounce of Poe’s not inconsiderable self-control to stop himself from acknowledging the pleasant flush of heat that spread across his cheeks. “Buddy, if we open up that can of worms, you might never be able to close it again.”

As soon as he said it, it felt like a promise. A promise that Poe shouldn’t have wanted to keep.

Those sorts of things got Poe into trouble. 

The worst part was that Poe liked trouble. 

Ben looked away and Poe refused to be disappointed by that fact. His fingers tapped at the base of the thick glass Poe had saddled him with when Poe climbed onto the hammock. “I wouldn’t mind.”

A huge number of possibilities branched before him, stretching in so many directions that they, gave the trees they lounged beneath a run for their money for sheer number. But there were only two that mattered. 

Yes or no. That was what everything boiled down to and this was no exception. 

“Han mentioned you guys had a hot tub around here somewhere,” Poe said, unsure why this was the form his ‘yes’ decided to take, but rolling with it anyway. The key point, as his alcohol-soaked brain recalled, was that it was at least somewhat hidden because Poe sure hadn’t seen it yet and nobody had gone off in search of it. Han had said, too, that he’d show it off and open it up once the day cooled down and slipped toward evening. _Best time for hot tubs_.

Poe very much disagreed, but he hadn’t been invested in the possibility of getting some privacy around here so the point hadn’t been worth belaboring at the time.

Ben’s brow arched, but there was a smile forming on his mouth, Poe could tell. “I hate that damned thing.”

His tone belied the words he spoke. Far more amused than something as strong as hate would suggest, it told Poe everything he needed to know. Grinning at Ben, he said, “You’re full of shit,” and heaved himself out of the hammock, holding out his hand for Ben to take. “Finish my drink for me, will you? No point bringing it along.”

Offering little more than a token protest, Ben downed it and dropped the thing. It fell with a dull thud, rolled a bit on the soft, thick grass, and spilled wheels of orange and lemon and lime across the ground. Ben’s hand felt warm and a little sweaty in his grip, the only sign that the heat was getting to him, and Poe was determined to hang onto it as long as Ben let him. He liked the smoothness of Ben’s palm beneath his more calloused one.

He liked a lot about Ben.

A couple of sets of eyes followed their progress across the yard toward the house, but if Ben wasn’t going to mind, then neither would Poe.

“I don’t know why I’m leading,” he said, “I don’t even know where it is.”

Ben rolled his eyes and pointed with their joined hands. “Around the side. There’s a deck. You’ll see it.”

And Ben wasn’t wrong. There was a deck, a nice one, recently stained a gray-blue ash color, like driftwood. And inset in the deck was the hot tub, surprisingly large. Big enough for eight at least. Whistling, Poe dragged his hand across the cover, leeching warmth from it, and then climbed the handful of nearby stairs.

Meanwhile, Ben kicked off his black oxfords and form-fitting black jeans to expose equally black—

“Those are swim trunks,” Poe said, thoughts a few steps behind his mouth.

“Uh, yeah.” Ben’s voice was muffled as he pulled off his shirt. “It’s a pool party. We can’t all have the confidence to go out in orange speedos.”

Poe could have dignified that with a response, but he chose to take the higher ground on this one. They were very obviously not speedos anyway. “I don’t think it was lack of confidence keeping you away.” _Or if it was,_ Poe thought, trying not to openly gawk at the broad swath of skin now on display, _it’s misguided_.

Guy was maybe a little pale and probably needed to put on sunscreen, but he had nothing at all to be ashamed of.

“Do you do much swimming or did you come by those shoulders honestly?” Poe asked, mostly teasing, but a little bit curious, too.

Ben’s cheeks flushed a very becoming shade of pink. A little defensive, he said, “It helps me clear my head.”

And then he focused the entirety of his attention on pulling the cover from the hot tub, folding it and leaning it against the deck, well away from either of them. Poking at a couple of buttons on the side, he got the jets going. Water churning, he waved vaguely in Poe’s direction.

Poe didn’t need to be told twice. Slipping in, he sighed happily and tipped his head up, leaning against the edge of the tub. Even with the sun still beating down on him, it felt good. Best way to spend an afternoon, that was for sure. Even if his companion went off and…

“Hey,” Poe said as Ben pulled the sliding glass door open and stepped into the house. He was only gone a minute though and came back with a pair of bottles of water, cold enough that the plastic seemed almost frosted over. He sat them on the edge of the deck that butted up against the tub where they sweated against the wood, condensation rolling down the sides.

Ben just arched an eyebrow. “Hey?”

Embarrassed by his own entirely sudden and not at all expected lack of suaveness, Poe said nothing, pushing himself over into one of the seats on the opposing side of the tub. It was an entirely a gesture of conscientiousness meant to give Ben some room, but Poe couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased when Ben followed, taking the spot next to him instead of any of the other open spots that remained.

“The tub is nice,” Poe said, because making conversation to make conversation was Poe’s thing, as easily accomplished as breathing. He could do it with his eyes closed—and he did, letting his body soak in the heat, the jets of water pleasant against his muscles.

Ben’s hand, still cool from the bottled water, caught Poe by the bicep, startling him with the contrast. “Sorry,” Ben mumbled. Before Poe could accept or tell him it wasn’t a problem, Ben raised that hand to Poe’s face, thumb touching Poe’s chin. His fingers curled under his jaw. And Poe was certain he was giving himself away in the sudden pounding of his heart, the sharp inhalation of his breath, the very real and visceral need that spiked inside of him.

Maybe Ben wasn’t the challenge Poe expected him to be, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind it in the slightest.

“I don’t normally do this, but…” Ben said, offhand, a little dreamy. But Poe was impatient and dreamy only got a person so far in life.

“I’m glad you made an exception,” Poe said, finally doing his part for the cause. His attention flicked briefly to the rest of the yard, where not a single sign of the rest of the party could yet be seen as he shifted so that his knees were mashed awkwardly on either side of Ben’s thighs. Good. It wasn’t his intention to embarrass Ben or himself here today. But right now, they might as well have been entirely alone.

Poe’s hand opened and pressed against Ben’s sternum, warm from the water, and brought their mouths together. Blood rushing in his ears, adrenaline pushing through his body, he leaned close, let himself have a kiss with a near stranger whom he liked very much.

It’d been too long since he’d done something truly foolish with his heart.

The very best part, the part that Poe would remember best, was the way Ben kissed back, holding nothing back. Poe would remember the insistent touch of Ben’s thumbs against his hip bones, the rest of his fingers arrayed against his side and back. There was a voice in the back of his mind telling him that they couldn’t get too caught up in this. At some point, someone would spot them. But there was a thrill in that, too, the time sensitivity, the possibility of consequences, even if the only thing at stake was their pride.

Ben shifted, hummed in the back of his throat. One hand smoothed across Poe’s lower back, climbed his spine. Electricity built in his wake, enervating every inch of skin his sweeping touch reached. Poe broke the kiss, breath caught in his chest and coming out ragged. His forehead briefly touched Ben’s. “We should probably…”

“Yeah,” Ben agreed, though his hands continued to wander. “Yeah, okay.”

Poe huffed a laugh as he ran his fingers through the tangle of his curls. “Rain check?”

Ben smiled in turn. “Yeah, okay.”

“Maybe after I take you out to dinner?” Poe shifted off of Ben’s lap, reclaimed his original seat. That didn’t stop him from reaching out to run his palm over Ben’s thigh.

“I like dinner.”

“Fancy words for a writer.”

Rolling one shoulder, Ben twined his hand with Poe’s. “I save my good words for the people who pay me.”

Poe felt so light, so thoroughly _happy_ , that he couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up inside of him. He didn’t often feel like a giddy teen. He hadn’t even really felt like one when he was a giddy teen. The fact that this guy, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding, made him feel that way was indescribably impressive. 

But Poe didn’t mind. 

And he definitely intended to do more than buy dinner for Ben. 

“Think your parents will miss you if you cut out early?” he asked, plans upon plans clicking into place in the back of his mind. 

“I think they’d be surprised I stayed as long as I did,” Ben answered. “Scenery was worth it though.”

Well, then. Poe didn’t need any more encouragement than that. The bubbling water sloshed as he stood, cascaded off his body. The breeze that kicked up sent goose pimples prickling up and down his arms, but he didn’t mind that either. 

Holding out his hand, he pulled Ben to his feet as well. “I might even tell you about being a pilot if you’re nice enough.”

There was no doubt in Poe's mind that this would go down as the single best pool party he had ever attended. 

And he was definitely looking forward to proving himself right on that score. 


End file.
